


Fixie, Shotgun, Cardio

by ruff_ethereal



Category: Big Hero 6 (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Violence, F/F, Gen, Gun Violence, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-26 18:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3860743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bikes. Perfect form of urban transportation: didn't need fuel, fast, easy to get around most terrain, from tight alleys to disused roads.</p><p>Shotgun, break-action, double barrel. Great weapon: easy to use, easy to fire, easy to maintain. Its ammo didn't need to be in clips, either; you could find a shell laying around and use it for later.</p><p>Triathlon training, career as a bike courier, cardiovascular exercise in general. Excellent for your general well-being and physical fitness; could either be used to win the actual competition, or run faster than other people, and more importantly, the zombies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mine, Theirs, The Zombies'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sketchhungry](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sketchhungry).



Friends? GoGo thinks she had friends back then. It was all rather fuzzy, since most of her days were spent running about and scavenging, killing zombies or a fellow survivor, after they made it clear their gun wasn't to intimidate.

No time for thinking if they were someone she knew, or whatever happened to them.

Family? Well, civilian communication was the first to go, in the midst of Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, Instagram, and the occasional Vine exploding from all the new posts and content about the apocalypse, not to mention all the screaming for help. The military—whatever was left of them, at any rate—were also keen on using all of that bandwidth and communication lines to try and coordinate.

Plus, GoGo had moved to this city to avoid them, and a zombie apocalypse wasn't going to get her back.

Emotions? There wasn't really time for “feeling” anything anymore. Of course GoGo was scared when the zombies first came about—everyone was. There were times when she'd soiled a perfectly good pair of underwear when a zombie or a survivor burst out from a closed door—or, as they got smarter/more desperate, from under the bathroom stall's divider wall.

But these days, she tended to just bypass the screaming and go straight to the pointing and shooting.

Anti-climactic, but this wasn't a zombie film. And from the few ones she remembered, the person who screamed and grappled about for their shotgun was either a protagonist who was about to experience a close call, or zombie chow about to get eaten because they weren't fast enough with their trigger.

And GoGo had little interest in either, but especially becoming zombie chow.

Yes, in the land of anarchy, modern civilization in ruins, and the dead walking in the streets, there was only yourself to care about. It'd be best if you deadened any feelings you had about murder, living or undead, and stopped letting the desperate pleas for help from the other survivors get to you.

The last one tended to be a trap; a signal for other, better armed, and less ethical survivors to open fire; or was legitimate, but GoGo usually had too little in goods or skills to be of any real help.

It was a crappy life, but it was life. And however much it sucked, GoGo still didn't want to die. Maybe it was because she was always the type determined to do things the hard way, and getting killed or committing suicide was just too easy.

Still, there were things that made her want to reconsider.

Like how GoGo really wished she could let go of her gun and her bags, or set them aside for a few moments. But now, that usually meant leaving her means of defense and survival open for looting or stealing, and you never knew when you'd want your gun in hand. Especially in the bathroom.

She also wished there was a night where she could have a good night's sleep without setting up traps, waking up in shifts, or forcing herself to work with another survivor. Victims tended to be noisy and woke her up, REM was impossible to get when you were only unconscious for thirty minutes at a time, and it was hard to find someone you could trust with your life these days.

Most of all, however, she missed normal, everyday conversation. GoGo was never much of a talker or a socialite back then, but she wasn't a recluse, either; there was always people to chat with about work, business, or just whatever.

Oh, GoGo did plenty of talking nowadays. But mostly, that was limited to these phrases:

“Don't shoot.”

“Parley.”

“I'll trade you...”

“Hands up in the air!”

“Reloading.”

and

“I'm sorry.”

But GoGo had long accepted that there wasn't going to be any of that anymore.

Until, that is, she met Honey Lemon. It was all random chance, really, but the others were always keen on calling it something more:

Fate.

* * *

After a week in the zombie apocalypse, GoGo had learned to classify buildings and locations as either “Hive,” “Loot,” “Hole,” or “Base.”

A Hive was a zombie infested location. You could tell these by the unusually tight clusters of zombies, the increased amounts of moaning and groaning, and very often, there were many bloodstains concentrated in a single area or a corner, and a lot of abandoned guns and weapons.

A Loot was a location that potentially held useful supplies like food, medicine, or ammunition. A Hole was one that was empty, completely ransacked, or full of useless crap.

A Base was a safe haven, separated into two further classifications: “Mine” was GoGo's alone, one she could retreat to if only for the moment or the night; “Theirs” was a safe haven owned by someone else. Generally GoGo made a note to remember which bases were friendly and which weren't, but in the zombie apocalypse, those notes could change too quickly for anyone's liking.

And the three floor apartment building GoGo was staring at was obviously a “Theirs.” They hadn't shot her, yelled at her, or pointed guns at her yet, so that meant their feelings towards her were probably ambivalent at the least.

A good enough reason to attempt trade or diplomacy—or make sure that this was one place she would need to avoid in the future.

The first floor was full of traps. They were incredibly obvious, and maintenance seemed to just be knocking off a zombie and body parts that had gotten caught, or the occasional survivor that was just that dumb, unfortunate, or a mix of both.

GoGo quietly made her way through it, making note of any possible route of escape should she need to bolt.

The stairs up were also trapped, but more subtle. There were incredibly obvious markers about what steps and what spots you shouldn't step on, but you'd be surprised how many people never looked down on their way up.

GoGo, however, was not one of those people, and alternately stepped very carefully and cast her gaze upwards.

The victims were always scavengers with these stair traps. Zombies had trouble getting up steps—always had, and always will.

The second floor wasn't trapped. But, it was, however, a large maze of obstacles and fences, and there were a lot of holes in the ceiling; those on the third floor with guns and heavy objects could easily and happily take advantage of them.

GoGo occasionally cast her head up, though it wouldn't mean much. Either the place was abandoned, or the survivors were waiting for something. If there was even one person up there who had it in for her, she would have been brained or shot, so her being able to make it all the way through unmolested was a good sign.

The entrance to the third floor was pitch black. All the lights were shot out, all the holes had been covered up.

GoGo stepped into the darkness and walked forward.

Click.

“Password.”

GoGo felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed on her forehead.

GoGo had learned that there were three ways this could end, from watching others in the same situation:

One, she could try to guess the password, in which case, she could magically guess what it was, get it wrong, or find out there was no password and it was all a trick.

Two, she could try to shoot back at whoever it was and hope she was faster, though at this range, that would mean she'd probably get shot—not to mention, there were usually friends who were happy to try again for their late buddy.

Three, she could run. Which, once again, didn't exactly end well.

So GoGo decided to take a fourth option:

“I don't know the password.”

You could feel whoever was holding her at gunpoint smile.

“Very smart.”

The gun disappeared. A shaft of light appeared in front of GoGo, outlining her former killer and giving her a glimpse inside. The door opened the rest of the way, and the entrance was suddenly fully lit.

GoGo saw that the person in front of her was a girl—tall, blonde, and cheerful, with a relatively clean dress and a revolver in her hands.

She also saw that she was rather attractive.

“Hi! My name's Honey Lemon. You would be?”

GoGo found herself at a loss for words. She seemed to have swallowed her tongue somewhere between then and now.

Honey Lemon smiled. “It's okay. Fred's going to give you a nickname, and everyone's going to call you by that from now on.

“Oh, and you'll have to hand me your gun and any weapons you might have if you want to head in—all for our safety, of course. We promise we won't hurt you if you don't.”

Honey Lemon didn't show any obvious signs of lying or deception, so GoGo agreed and stepped in.

Though she didn't know it yet, this was going to be the first “Theirs” that was going to become an “Ours.”


	2. Little Home In The Apocalypse

The first thing GoGo noticed about the base was how clean and organized it was.

The floors were about as spotless as you could get with post-apocalyptic cleaning supplies, and everything, from the barricades and cover, to the signs, and to the different sections all looked meticulously planned and maintained.

“You might want to wipe your shoes,” Honey Lemon said as she pointed to a well-used welcome mat just inside the door. “Wasabi will freak out otherwise.”

“Who's Wasa--”

“Is that the newcomer?!” Someone yelled. GoGo heard quick, heavy footsteps before she came face to face with one of the biggest people she'd ever met in her entire life.

He was dressed in a clean green sweater—by post-apocalyptic standards, at any rate. The blood on it was distinctly faded, and the stains all over him were dirt and plant matter rather than blood and zombie guts. In his hand was a dirty apron, and in the other, a trowel he was holding much like a dagger.

The look on his face was serious and unamused. Without her weapon and an armed ally of his nearby, GoGo listened quietly as he spoke.

“Before you take another step into this base, you need to understand the ground rules:

“One! Keep everything as clean and neat as possible. Make sure to wash your hands, sanitize, and keep your food to the designated dining area! The last thing we need is someone getting sick, rats coming in to invade our supplies and our gardens, or disgusting stains around the fort!

“We may be in a zombie apocalypse, but that's no reason to forget basic hygiene, and common decency.

“Two! Do not disturb the System. Every single piece of furniture, every sector, every barricade in this house has been meticulously plotted and placed in strategic areas to maximize their effectiveness in defensibility, maneuverability, and vision, favouring us, and not the other guys!

“Do not try to fix anything outside of combat or emergencies, do not do not tear anything down outside of combat or emergencies, and especially do not move anything outside of combat or emergencies without consulting with me first! In case of combat or emergencies, do your best to coordinate, talk, and plan with everyone else in this base, whatever the hell is happening.

“Communication and information is key.

“And just so we're clear here: I do mean _everything_ —even the plastic potted plants! Those aren't just decorative, I'll have you know! They form a key part of our continued survival, and it is for everyone's best interests that you do not mess with them.”

“Three! Follow orders, coordinate, plan, and do not argue with your immediate superior! We have a System, a chain of command, and the people up high are there for a reason! We've always had to work together before the zombie apocalypse, and no time has that been more important than now.

“Do you understand me?”

GoGo nodded. It was rather more rules than any other base she'd been in, but then again, this was the first one she'd seen that was this nice outside of the military.

“Good! Now, I have to return to the plants.” The man threw his apron back on and stalked down a hall. “Who's laughing about growing my own food in my apartment now, huh?!”

Honey Lemon smirked. “That was Wasabi. Don't worry about him; I know he may look big and scary, but it's mostly because he's just seriously uptight and _super_ organized. He's really a big softie, once you get to know him.”

GoGo didn't exactly believe that, and made a note to avoid the garden, and avoid touching as much of the place as possible.

“As you may have guessed already, he's our quartermaster here, responsible for all the numbers and details about our day-to-day survival, along with our drill sergeant, enforcing the systems and rules that keep things organized in the middle of all the chaos these days. Though everyone here cleans, he's the one that does it the most, and we split garden and kitchen duty, though he's more the former, I'm the latter.”

GoGo wiped her shoes on the welcome mat as she listened, not stopping till almost every single trace of loose mud, dust, and blood on her shoes had been removed.

Honey Lemon watched the display in a mixture of amused and just pleased. “I'd suggest you take your shoes off, but you wouldn't want to step in some of the things we have just laying around here.”

GoGo didn't ask what they were or why she wouldn't want to do just that. She stepped forward, and looked at Honey Lemon to ask her to continue the tour.

“This way, please, to the radio room.” Honey Lemon gestured to one of the halls. A sign nearby had an image of a radio tower done in Sharpie, along with an arrow pointing to it.

GoGo followed obediently, until they came into a room in the center of the building. There were a number of communications equipment inside, from walkie-talkies, a CB radio, and even a military grade one—though it looked badly beat up, bloodstained, and hooked into a mess of other wires and devices like Frankenstein life-support for machines.

At the heart of it all was a man with dirty blonde hair and even dirtier clothes, ones that were already probably in bad need of a proper laundering even before the zombies arrived. He lounged in a fancy Aeron chair, easily spinning about and handling the equipment, answering transmissions and listening in to the chatter.

In his lap, presumably for when the radios were silent, was a comic book.

Honey Lemon and GoGo waited in the doorway while Fred finished up a transmission from a different base.

“… And yes, we'll keep an eye out for the Usuals. Stay safe out there, Old Stone, Fred Cave out.” He put his radio back on its handle, turned to GoGo, and waved.

“Hey there, name's Fred! Judging by the worn (and totally awesome) leather jacket, the bags all over you, and your build, I'm guessing you're a girl that's been out and about in this apocalypse, so I'm going to call you GoGo!”

“For future reference, no, there's no changing it.” Honey Lemon said with a smile.

GoGo didn't see the point in arguing, especially since she wasn't even sure if she was going to be interacting with Fred any time soon.

Another transmission came in, and Honey Lemon explained Fred's role in the base for him.

“He's the leader of our crew, which is why he gets dibs on nicknames and calling our home the Fred Cave. He's also our resident survival expert, with lots of contingencies, information, and skills that are incredibly useful and/or specifically geared for the apocalypse. He's also great with negotiations and just sitting in his chair for hours on end, listening to the chatter.”

“Everyone always said I was spending too much time planning for the zombie apocalypse!” Fred said. “Well, let's just hear what they have to say now! Or probably not, because most of them are dead, and they'd just try to eat my brains than have something to say. Probably wouldn't even be something nice, anyway.”

GoGo frowned as she watched Fred return to his radios.

“I know he may not look the part, but trust me, all of us owe our lives to him, and we'd be a lot worse off if he hadn't trained and studied so extensively for when the zombies came.” Honey Lemon said quietly. “There's only one more person for you to meet, so let's go!”

The two of them passed a number of rooms, some used as storage, sleeping quarters, or even just a fort to hole up in should the going get tough. Eventually, they reached a section of the base that was very clearly outlined with orange reflective tape and several warning signs from lots of different sources.

In an adjacent hallway was a doorway covered with a curtain. On the wall next to it was a large red cross in sloppily done red paint.

“Just in case all the signs and the orange hasn't tipped you off: it's best you be careful if you step in here.” Honey Lemon said as she slowly walked past the orange line.

GoGo frowned and stalked just behind her. She desperately wished she had her gun.

This section of the base was vastly different from the others. The rooms were dedicated to storing tools, gasoline, and building materials like wood, spare metal, and broken machines. Near the very end of the hallway, you could see traps unfinished, broken, or complete and awaiting deployment, all with very clear lines as to how close was _too_ close, and where you might not want to pass by.

Honey Lemon knocked loudly on one of the doors at the very end. “Hey, Hiro! I got someone here that got past the Gauntlet! Want to meet them, or you too busy right now?”

There was a flurry of activity inside, parts and tools being set aside or disarmed, till there was the sound of a pair of feet quickly but very carefully making its way to the door. A series of locks and bolts disengaged and slid back, until finally, the door opened to reveal a scrawny teenager with messy hair, dressed in a shirt and pants that had most of their loose bits tied or taped down.

“Hi! I'm Hiro, the designer for most of the traps and defense systems you just bypassed! I'd like to personally congratulate you on getting past my insidious and meticulously plotted Gauntlet, and if you could tell me how you got past it so you won't be able to next time, that'd be great.” He grinned with such cockiness that GoGo was already starting to hate him.

“Maybe later, Hiro, we still need her alive for now.”

Hiro shrugged. “Suit yourself! I have to go finish this trap now; you never know when a horde might pass by or some scavengers might get cocky.” With a quick goodbye to Honey Lemon, he shut the door and returned to his room.

GoGo kept her comments to herself. It rarely helped to insult people before the apocalypse, it was potentially lethal now.

“I'll explain why we still need you alive in the kitchen.” Honey Lemon started leading them back through the gauntlet of traps and supplies.

“Oh, and before I forget: coffee, tea, or just water?”


	3. Coffee's For Closers

“So, still wrapping your head around the fact that you're holding an actual cup of coffee in your hands?” Honey Lemon said as she sat across GoGo with her own mug of tea, a smile on her face.

GoGo looked up and shook her head. “I'm wondering more why you'd give me something like this.”

After the city borders started closing down, businesses started boarding up their windows and flipping the sign to “Closed” for the last time, and shelves and cupboards started turning up empty, simple pleasures like coffee had become a prized commodity.

It was sometimes more valuable than food, medical supplies, or fuel, along with other “luxury” goods like cigarettes, alcohol, or chocolate.

Honey Lemon chuckled. “Didn't your parents ever teach you that it's polite to offer guests refreshments?”

GoGo was unamused and sipped her drink—more slowly and carefully than she ever had any cup of crappy instant coffee in her life.

“Seriously speaking though, it's to butter you up, make you more amenable to accepting our offer.”

GoGo cast her a look that said, “And that would be?”

“We want you to scavenge for us—full time.”

GoGo nodded and gestured for her to continue.

“As you might have guessed, we're pretty set for day-to-day survival. Unfortunately, there are some things we just can't make in house, and need just as badly as food, water, and medical supplies: ammunition, building supplies, even a couple of goods for trading.

“You won't believe what a porn magazine will get you these days!

“Generally, we've been rotating the duties among us, except for Hiro for obvious reasons, but as you know, going outside is a risky proposition, and replacing someone—especially with the skills the late guys had—is extremely difficult to outright impossible these days.

“From what Fred said about you—and believe me, Fred is almost never wrong—you're an experienced scavenger. You know how to look, you know how to defend yourself, and you probably know how to get from point A to point B quickly, with as many supplies as you can.”

GoGo grunted and nodded.

“ _Excellent._ Here's the deal: we have a 'shopping list' of items and goods that we need or could use; or other people want that we can use as bartering chips for trading or leverage in negotiations. You help supply us with those, we give back to you: supplies, information, even a place to sleep at night, if you want to.

“There are also a lot of benefits, perks, and advantages to this base, ones we'll let you in on if you do us right. I don't feel _entirely_ comfortable with sharing all of the details and its secrets with you just yet, though. You never know when advertising might make you an attractive raid target, instead.

“Ideally, we want you in a permanent position, because we certainly have the room, but you can also refuse, and be free to keep coming back to work for us as many times as you like. So long as you don't do anything _stupid_ like try to steal from us, leak private information, or try to kill any of us, or help people that want to do that.

Honey Lemon's face turned dark. “We haven't survived this long just by luck and passing under other people's radars. We know how to use these weapons, and we will not be afraid to use them. And that's if the Gauntlet doesn't get you first.”

Honey Lemon relaxed, back to her look of casual business. “Payment and what bonuses you'll get, if any, depends entirely of what you get back to our base. We don't care how much work you had to do to get it, only that you get those items back, in good condition, and in good time.

“There's bonuses for getting it done quickly, and especially if you don't bring down the ire of someone else on us, but in the end, we just really need that stuff.

“Sound good?”

GoGo nodded. It was a standard agreement.

Honey Lemon smiled and clapped her hands together. “Fantastic! You can find our shopping list with Fred, and Wasabi should be able to supply you with a few supplies and extra equipment to help you get them—or trade for them, if it comes to it. Fred will definitely be in the radio room, and Wasabi will be in one of three places: the kitchen; the 3C, what we call the place where we clean our stuff, bathe, and do our 'business'; or the garden.

“Just follow the signs, they're there for a reason. I'll see you at the door, and hand your gun back to you there.”

GoGo nodded, and shotgunned the rest of her coffee. It burned her throat as it went down, but it was a good kind of burning.

The kind she hadn't enjoyed since this whole mess started.

* * *

GoGo did as she usually did when she got to a base: she traded, she unloaded some things, and she used their facilities.

Sometimes she needed to, sometimes she just wanted to. Going in an actual toilet without having to worry about someone walking in and trying to kill you was a depressingly rare luxury these days.

GoGo walked back to the front door and studied the shopping list in her hands, mentally making note of the locations Fred had told her might have them. They couldn't write it down on the paper too, for fear of a rival scavenger using it to their advantage.

Honey Lemon was, as she promised, waiting there with her shotgun, unloaded and with the two shells that were inside in her other hand. She handed the weapon back, GoGo inspected the weapon for tampering—you never really knew these days—found it just fine, and loaded it once more.

Honey Lemon pulled the door open for her, peering out with her pistol ready before she stepped back and gestured to the entrance. “Stay safe out there, alright?”

GoGo grunted and made her way to out.

“Oh, and before you go: I've got a question.”

GoGo turned to her and gave Honey a look that said “Go ahead.”

“Do you like me?”

GoGo blinked. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I mean, do you like me romantically? As in interested in a relationship with me? Or really, just having sex with me. I'd be down with either.”

GoGo blushed. “Uh...”

Honey Lemon smiled. “Best if you just skip all the teasing, flirting, and playing hard to get, and just give it to me straight. I know this isn't exactly how romance is supposed to work, but I'd rather not risk living with another question I'll never know the answer to.”

GoGo paused. She thought about it for a moment, and found she really couldn't argue with the logic and the reasoning.

“Yes.”

Honey Lemon grinned, stepped forward, and casually planted a kiss on GoGo's lips.

GoGo's eyes widened, and for a brief moment, her brain short-circuited. She was _extremely_ thankful she always kept her finger on the trigger guard.

Honey Lemon pulled back, smiling like a cat. “Good. Because I like you too. Come back in one piece, and I guarantee, they'll be more kisses, and maybe a _lot_ more if you play your cards right.” She patted GoGo on the shoulder, and nudged her out the door.

GoGo stumbled out for a few moments before she caught her footing. She turned around just in time to see Honey Lemon slam the door in her face.

She stood in the complete darkness of the entrance, wondering what the hell just happened. Then she shook her head, turned around, and started making her back down the Gauntlet.

The giddiness and the spring in her step was probably just the caffeine kicking in.


	4. Take A Trip To The Toy Store

_Bang!_

The zombie's head exploded like a cheap horror movie prop, only even more disgusting.

Sometimes, GoGo wished the walking dead hadn't rotted like they should have, if only because the splatter was more predictable and what hit you was a neat, identifiable colour rather than the disturbing gunk that found its way on her clothes.

Then again, that same phenomenon made the Heralds of the Apocalypse almost completely useless as the weeks passed, so she didn't really have much right to complain.

GoGo kicked the now-headless corpse away before it could fall on her and make an even bigger mess on her clothes. Again, it made a disturbing squish as her boot finally helped deal the finishing blow to whatever forces were keeping it together.

“I hate zombies...” GoGo mumbled as she stepped well past the _extremely_ dead zombie parts on the floor.

There was no one around to hear it, but it always made her feel better. And these days, she needed all the relief she could.

GoGo ducked behind a corner, flipped open her shotgun, and loaded a fresh shell into her empty barrel. Reloading out in the open was a mistake she'd learned not to make long ago—mostly through several other scavengers and survivors learning it the hard way.

It was a disturbingly common sight, these “second-hand lessons” as she liked to call them. Especially nowadays when the zombies were becoming less of a threat, supplies were getting scarcer, and there were too many humans around for everyone's liking.

GoGo double checked her gun, held it at the ready, and poked the barrel out of cover, using it to sweep around the area. Not poking your head out first was another lesson she'd learned, also through the same means.

When there was no sound of scattering, no grunts, no shuffling in her immediate area, GoGo darted out of cover and into the toy store.

Not exactly a Loot she'd investigate normally, but today, it held something she wanted.

GoGo carefully stepped in, eyes wary, gun at the ready. “Hello? Anyone in here?”

If there were friendly survivors, they'd answer back.

If there were unfriendly survivors, they'd either yell at her to go away, fire off a warning shot, or lie in wait for her.

If there were more zombies like the one outside, they'd probably start shuffling to the sound of her voice, a good sign to leave this place for later or never in case it was actually a Hive.

The loss of the element of surprise never bothered her; she liked to minimize her chances of accidentally or intentionally getting shot, and it was difficult to catch a zombie unaware given their disturbingly enhanced senses of smell and hearing, and it was generally better to find out if you'd stumbled onto a hostile Theirs or a Hive while you were still at the door rather than when you were already deep inside.

GoGo waited for a minute. No sound, no groaning, no shuffling. The zombie outside seemed to be one of those corpses that wandered away from a horde, and the Loot was still a Loot, probably empty of other scavengers and survivors, too.

However, GoGo still kept her gun at the ready and her eyes and ears on full alert. Sometimes, hostile survivors were just _really_ good at hiding and keeping quiet, yet another second hand lesson.

GoGo went past the aisles and displays of the toy store, mostly intact save for all the dust, errant weather, and the occasional wrecked display by scavengers or a zombie. She frowned and felt uneasy; it always bothered her when she saw something that reminded her too much of the days before the apocalypse.

If Fred's information was right—and from the other items on her shopping list she'd already gotten, the man had a skill for being a Post-Apocalyptic Google—she'd just have to make her way down the aisles, deep into the store, and look for a massive display case.

It wasn't as easy at it sounded, though. The place was large, the windows were few, and the lights were out; it might have been a major Toys R Us back then, but there was little incentive to try and read any of the signs in the darkness. GoGo flipped open the flashlight strapped to the bottom of her gun, made a sweep of the area around her, then kept moving further in.

It seemed that today was her lucky day: the place was devoid of zombies other than the first one, ot her scavengers or survivors , and  lo and behold, the display case  and her  target  was  still inside , as  Fred said it  probably would .

But GoGo knew just how quick your luck could turn these days. She didn't dawdle, celebrate, or even crack a smile. As with any scavenging run, the only thing she did was find the loot, put in her bags, then leave with as much of it as possible, as quickly as possible.

A survivor with filled bags was a more attractive target than one with empty ones.

She ran up to the display case and whacked it with her gun. The wooden stock made a nice thump on the glass, even cracked it, but the case held. The manufacturer would be pleased to know their product could survive a few weeks into a zombie apocalypse and an experienced survivor trying to break it open.

GoGo wasn't, and scowled. She hated problems that didn't have simple, straightforward solutions, and especially those she couldn't solve by force instead.

Shooting the glass would probably break it open nicely—but she didn't want to damage the item inside. If there was one thing she remembered about collectors, it's that losing the box made the value drop dramatically. How much more worthless would it be if it had gunpowder burns and a few pellets in it?

She turned away from the glass, about to look for a manager's office or some sort of security room, and came face to face with a survivor holding their gun on her.

“Drop your weapons, and your bags.”

GoGo carefully laid her shotgun to the floor before her bags. An accidental discharge was enough reason for other people to pull their triggers. Either paranoia or making sure you wouldn't be able to mishandle a gun again.

“Hands behind your head!”

GoGo obeyed.

“Don't you move! Don't you make a single move!”

She watched them walk to her, their footsteps shaky and uneven. She heard breathing, haggard and nervous. She watched as their hands shook as they held the gun, clearly inexperienced or still having trouble using it even after all this time.

They were scared. They were panicked. They were, by zombie apocalypse survival standards, zombie food that hadn't been eaten yet.

They hadn't learned that when you robbed someone—and especially if you had them at a disadvantage—you were supposed to tell them to drop their weapons, then kick those and their bags away, so you could keep them at a safe distance with a buffer to react, safely root through their stuff, and dispose of them without a mess, if you wanted to.

Whoever it was also hadn't learned that you did not try to rob GoGo.

She had kickboxing training, along with some “on the field” fighting skills she'd gained in bar brawls way back when. She was disciplined, she was skilled, she knew how to fight.

And most of her opponents were the complete opposite.

The struggle was brief, brutal, and decisive, just like every fight should be. In a move Fred would have called poetic if GoGo had told him about it, she grabbed their gun and shot them to death with it.

She ignored the look of shock and fear in their eyes as the life slowly faded from them. She pressed the barrel of their gun up to their forehead to make sure she wouldn't miss, and pulled the trigger.

_Bang. Click. Click._

GoGo growled. She set the empty gun aside to collect later, grabbed her shotgun, and again, pressed the barrel to their head, and pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

She closed her eyes from the spray, ignored whatever hit her in the face. Much as she hated it, a _fresh_ zombie was worse.

GoGo dragged her bags to a hidden corner, and equipped them once more. Another second hand lesson.

Then, she scouted the area for anyone attracted by the fight, and dragged the body back to the corner before she looted it. No guesses as to where she got the habit.

GoGo found some useful items and a security key for all her troubles. She smirked and was happy the toy store didn't digitize their locks for their displays.

A limited edition “Chemical Kitten” action figure safely nestled in her packs (and almost not a single speck of blood on it, too!), GoGo stepped out of the toy store, retrieved her bike, and went off to the next item on her shopping list.


	5. Commerce, Cleaning, and Courtship

_Click._

The cold steel of a gun barrel on her head.

“Password?”

“I don't know the password.”

Honey Lemon lowered her gun and stepped back to open the door. “Sorry about that; I knew it was you coming up the Gauntlet, but Wasabi's pretty keen on maintaining protocol at all times. 'One exception, one slip up, one mistake, and then it's only downhill from there!'” She said in a poor imitation of his voice.

GoGo chuckled.

“I heard that!” Wasabi cried from inside. “And honestly, it's true! Systems and order depend on consistency!”

Light flooded the dark entrance, letting GoGo look inside the Fred Cave.

The whole place was lit up by electric bulbs, a rarity these days now that the main power grid was out and most people depended on generators or solar panels. (Despite the costs of running them, the Fred Cave didn't seem to want to risk fumbling about in the dark.)

It was so bright it let them all clearly see all the newest layer of filth and gore on GoGo.

Wasabi's face turned from moderate annoyance, to abject horror, to mute, resigned silence.

Honey Lemon whistled, slowly eying GoGo up and down.

GoGo flipped her gun around and held it by the barrel, stock thrust out to Honey Lemon. “Are you going to let me in now, or are we just going to stand here?”

Wasabi slowly shook his head before gesturing for GoGo to come in. “Meet me inside by storage room A. And wipe your shoes! … And try not to touch too many things...” He walked away mumbling under his breath.

Honey Lemon took GoGo's gun from her, and unloaded both shells from the barrel. She didn't seem to mind the generous amounts of blood and stains on it. “Don't worry. If you did as good of a job as Fred said you would, which I think you did, you're going to _love_ your first bonus with us.”

GoGo shrugged, wiped her shoes on the rug before she stepped in—though now, it was really more of an exercise in getting it dirty and her feet slightly less.

* * *

“… And you can keep the rest, and exchange these for some of our food stores. Aside from fresh, _real_ food being healthier and better than these canned goods, they're easier to trade.”

GoGo stood in front of the tarpaulin set on the floor, watching Wasabi as he sat cross legged from her, rooted through her bags, and organized the contents in neat piles and sections. She'd rarely seen anyone this organized while trading, but then again, most of them were done as literal back-alley deals, where you were also at risk of someone actually stabbing in the back, or giving new meaning to "cutthroat business."

Wasabi cringed and made disgusted noises as he pulled out the rougher contents—items GoGo'd literally gotten from someone's cold, dead hands; stained with actual blood, sweat, and occasionally tears; and supplies she'd found in less than savoury places.

Still, most of the damage was cosmetic or minimal, and the packaging or wrappers were frequently waterproof, vacuum sealed, or tightly packaged. The contents were safe, which is all that really mattered.

The items on the shopping list were set on their own separate piles or into containers for safe keeping, handled as delicately and carefully as Wasabi could with the help of a clean cloth. The Chemical Kitten action figure, however, remained on display.

GoGo's smile mimicked the toy's painted grin as Wasabi gave her the total “wages” she'd earned for all her work, along with a complimentary reorganizing of the things she was allowed to keep, and repairs on her bags.

“You actually qualify for two bonuses right now, both of which are features of our base. I suggest you go redeem the first one: a shower in the 3C, with a clothes washing thrown in, too. We'll get you new ones that you can keep, provided we have something in your size. If we don't, Honey Lemon can help solve that though that service won't be free.”

GoGo smiled. Baths were the last thing on her mind most of the time, but now that she actually had the opportunity to take one, she was looking rather forward to it.

“… I'll also have to warn you that, because clean, potable water is at a premium everywhere, and it's _way_ to easy to spoil soap and dirty up the the 3C—” Wasabi recoiled. “--I'll have to be in there with you and make sure you don't use up more than your allowance.”

GoGo frowned. Even in an apocalypse, having someone in the room with her while she was naked—especially a total stranger—was a “No.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

“Actually, Wasabi, I think it'll be a better idea if I watch her instead of you.” Honey Lemon butted in from her position in the doorway.

Wasabi turned to her and nodded. “Good idea.” Then, he narrowed his eyes. “Just don't give her any extras, alright? In the end, it's everyone's water, and if someone takes more than their fair share, everyone suffers.

“Tragedy of the commons, people! Tragedy of the commons!”

Honey Lemon nodded. “I know, Wasabi, I know.” She turned to GoGo and smiled. “C'mon, GoGo, I'll show you the way!”

* * *

The 3C was a combination laundry room and communal bathroom. Most of it was built around an actual bathroom back when Fred Cave was still just an apartment complex, but the whole thing had been quickly and cleverly renovated.

Several more toilets had been jury-rigged, along with divider walls, colourful decorations and designs, and surfaces for putting your things on or holding on to if you wanted to avoid actually touching the “seats” or get creative with your “business.”

The shower area had been left mostly as it was, except the knobs had been removed, the original shower head was gone, and a new makeshift system provided the running water. Curtains gave whoever was in it some privacy.

Though there were a number of pipes and large barrels of stored water, faucets were a rarity in there. Buckets with lids, pails, and dippers dotted every couple of feet, all of them with level marks and notes or signs plastered nearby to tell you how much you were allowed to use.

The washing machine, like the military radio in Fred's room, used to be whole, until necessity forced the inhabitants to get creative and operate it without electricity. The new mechanisms were composed chiefly of a bicycle, hand-washing necessary for the finer stains.

Used water drained into containers to lug to the garden; be used to wash something that didn't need the water to be pure; or safely dispose of it.

It was a very efficient and clever system, given the circumstances.

“Very nice.” GoGo commented.

Honey Lemon nodded. “Wasabi helped designed a lot of it, and Hiro and his brother Tadashi did most of the work, like actually building it. Second only to the traps, the two of them were finding all sorts of ways to try and make our lives here a little easier.”

GoGo didn't ask any more about Tadashi. She knew that the answer probably wasn't going to be, “Oh, he lives at a different base.”, “He's just out on an extended mission in the next couple of blocks over.”, or “Actually, we just hid him from you on purpose during your first visit since we didn't trust you yet.”

“I'm sorry, but I can't turn around and look away while you undress.” Honey Lemon said while looking far from “sorry.” “Wasabi's paranoid about people hiding things under their clothes or trying to steal something while they do.

“I'm not, but you know: protocol!” She smiled.

GoGo blinked. She opened her mouth, before remembering: right, shower. Which would necessitate getting naked.

In front of Honey Lemon. GoGo blushed.

Honey Lemon chuckled. “You'll get used to it, I promise. It's like gym class all over again except both genders are allowed in the same room.”

GoGo cringed. She hated that part of gym class.

“And if you need any help washing your back…” Honey Lemon added off-hand.

GoGo blushed and turned away from her. She walked over to a designated corner with a laundry basket laid out, and started stripping, her eyes firmly away from Honey Lemon.

Her blush only grew brighter as she lost more and more of her clothes, and it became more and more aware that Honey Lemon was unabashedly staring. She stepped into the shower quick as she could without tearing the curtain off its rings.

GoGo grabbed the dipper from the wall, dunked it into the barrel half filled with water, and poured it over her head.

_“GAH!”_

The rest of it came crashing down on her, freezing the rest of her. GoGo gasped for breath and dropped the plastic dipper, letting it clatter to the floor as she shivered and shook.

Honey Lemon chuckled. “Probably should have told you the water's cold, huh?”

GoGo gritted her teeth. She grabbed the soap off the dish, and focused on scrubbing off as much layers of gunk and gore off her body as she could.

Outside, Honey Lemon whistled a merry tune as she carted GoGo's dirty clothes off to the washing machine.


	6. Things That Go "Hmph!" In The Night

“You look a _lot_ better without all the grime, blood, and bodily fluids!” Honey Lemon said as gave GoGo a thumbs up.

GoGo didn't notice, too busy towel drying her hair. Something she hadn't done in a long time.

She looked down at her hands. Still not squeaky clean, but free of most of the filth that she'd thought would cake them for the rest of her life.

She looked down at her clothes. Clean clothes. Not fresh, by any means, but they were clean. And not covered in zombie guts, blood, mud, and no old sweat smell, to boot.

She looked at Honey Lemon, still smiling. GoGo smiled back. Now she didn't even care that she had watched her get undress, shower, and get dressed after. She was that happy.

GoGo had forgotten what it was like to be clean, or at the very least, not constantly covered in several layers of filth and sweat. And now that she remembered, she never wanted to go several weeks without a single shower ever again.

“'Fraid I couldn't do anything about your jacket. Still grimy, bloody, and disgusting; we need the oil for traps, detergent for our own clothes, and the clean rags for cleaning other things and medical emergencies, unfortunately.”

GoGo came back down from her high. Right, jacket, traps, zombie apocalypse.

She realized she'd have to return to the streets soon, unless she wanted to try and negotiate with Honey Lemon for a room for the night. GoGo thought of what she might be able to trade for safe haven as she dropped her filthy towel into the designated laundry basket ~~~~

Provided Wasabi hadn't nicked anything from her belongings, she had…

… Not much. GoGo realized she had been too busy with searching for the items on the Shopping List than any of her usual hunts for luxury goods and valuable supplies for trading.

Which meant that there was a very good chance she would be stuck trying to find a Mine out in the streets, in complete darkness, where zombie and raider attacks were extremely likely. Both had learned long ago that the cover of darkness and tired victims made for easy pickings.

“You've got the look on your face again.” Honey Lemon said.

GoGo snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Honey Lemon, wordlessly replying, “What look?”

“I call it your thinking look. You had it when you were debating going inside the Fred Cave the first time, you had it when you were bartering with Wasabi, and you have it now. Mind telling me what's bugging you?”

No point in beating around the bush, as Honey Lemon said.

“I need a place to stay for the night.”

Honey Lemon grinned. “You're in luck! That's exactly your second perk with us, one night in one of our better beds! And just bringing it up again, if you decide to work for us on a permanent basis, it can be all yours for as long as you're one of us here in the Fred Cave.”

GoGo smiled.

Honey Lemon thumbed to the exit. “Shall I see you to your room, then?”

GoGo nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

* * *

The hallway leading to the Fred Cave's sleeping quarters was no less well defended than the rest of it. Barricades, obstacles, and even traps protected it.

Instead of the menacing and clearly lethal spring-loaded mechanisms, blunt instruments, and spikes of the Gauntlet, however, these traps were much simpler and decidedly non-lethal. Among their number: bells on trip wires, blocks of wood on the floor to trip unsuspecting shufflers, and even a few rope snares to catch anyone trying to sneak within the hall's blind spots.

If ever someone tried to catch the Fred Cave sleeping, they were going to have one _very_ bad time.

“That, or you're never going to need coffee to wake up in the morning if you're not careful.” Honey Lemon joked as she and GoGo made her way down the hall.

GoGo didn't laugh, too busy focusing on not tripping any of the wires or the blocks, then finding out how tough the floors were with her face.

“I forgot to mention: because of the limited amount of space we have, you're going to have a roommate. It's not me, unfortunately, but I think you're going to be just fine so long as you keep to yourself.” Honey Lemon said as they came to a door with a number 3 on it.

GoGo grunted. She didn't ask who it was, and waited for Honey Lemon to knock on the door.

“Hiro? I'm coming in.” She said as she pushed open the door.

GoGo peered inside. The room was, like most of the Fred Cave, also used for storage and had defenses set up, only enough room for two single beds.

Hiro sat on the one on the left, his arms crossed. He shot Honey a dirty look then gave GoGo an even dirtier glare.

Honey Lemon turned to GoGo forced a smile. “Will you excuse us for a second?”

GoGo nodded and waved her in.

“Thank you.” Honey Lemon said before she stepped inside, and carefully, gently closed the door after her.

The walls not being soundproof, GoGo only had to press her ear up to a wall to hear their conversation more clearly.

“Hiro--”

“How could you just do this, Honey?!”

“I know that, Hiro, but you have to understand--”

“These aren't the only beds, right?! We have others! Why can't she use those?”

“They're not as nice, Hiro, and she got us all those items from the shopping list, right?”

“I don't care! You still can't just give away Tadashi's bed like that!”

“Hiro...”

GoGo sighed, and opened the door.

Hiro and Honey Lemon both sat on his bed. He had his arms crossed, anger burning in his eyes, every breath seething. She wrapped an arm around Hiro's shoulders, a mournful look in her eyes.

The two of them turned to GoGo. Honey Lemon's eyes opened wide in panic. Hiro scowl grew deeper as he shot her an icy glare.

“Look, Hiro: I understand.” GoGo started as she came back in. “You lost your brother. This bed is all you have left of him.” She sat down the edge of Tadashi's old bed.

Hiro spluttered angrily. He lunged at GoGo, before Honey Lemon held him back. He quickly stopped and glared even harder at GoGo.

“But you've got to understand: I'm not, you're not, and the others aren't. It's hell out there, and everyone needs every last scrap of help they can get.” GoGo said, unfazed.

“You know how the others were taking turns heading outside to scavenge before Honey Lemon hired me, right? You know the feeling, waiting for someone, hoping that they're going to check back in, maybe with loot, hopefully with just their lives?”

GoGo paused. After some time, Hiro looked away and grunted an affirmative.

“I've been scavenging for weeks. I'm a professional, or at least damn good at it. Most of all, I'm an extra head. I go out there, so the others can't, so you can all stay safe in this base while I do what I always do, except this time, for you guys.

“Doesn't that make things easier for all of us? Do you _really_ want to piss me off? Is making it harder for everyone else to survive this hell-hole what you want, what the others want, what Tadashi would have wanted?”

Hiro turned his head and stared at GoGo for a long, long time, the expression on his face hostile and unchanging. Then, he shrugged off Honey Lemon's arm, laid down on his bed, and turned away from GoGo.

“If you snore, I'm kicking you out.”

“Deal.”

GoGo let her head hit the pillows. Before Honey Lemon could even congratulate her, she fell asleep.


	7. Somewhere I Belong

GoGo woke up blindly groping for her gun. She frowned and opened her eyes as soon as she didn't feel the familiar feel of wood or bloodied steel.

She bolted upright from wherever the hell she had fallen unconscious this time--

\--And then she remembered that she had fallen asleep in the Fred Cave. In a bed. An actual one, with a mattress, sheets, and even a pillow.

GoGo frowned. It felt weird. Good, because she wasn't sleeping on the hard ground, out in the open air, and without the threat of someone coming along to rob her or a zombie eating her, but still, weird.

She figured it was safe to lay back on the bed—her bed—and go back to sleep. Honey Lemon hadn't specified any sort of time limit, and if there was, someone should have been there to wake her up.

But then GoGo just knew, however comfortable this bed was, she couldn't get back to sleep.

GoGo slipped off the side of the bed. She noticed she'd left a huge mess on the bottom of the sheets because she hadn't taken off her shoes before she passed out, but for the moment, she didn't care. Wasabi would have a fit about it, that was a given, but she probably wouldn't be around to see it.

She looked across the room to Hiro's side. He was gone. Probably slipped out some time earlier, so he wouldn't be around to deal with GoGo once she woke up.

Frankly, she didn't blame him.

She stepped out of the room, and looked out of the hallways. All the traps, all the barricades, and all the obstacles were still in place. The lights overhead had been shut off, meaning it was either morning or they cut off the power at the sleeping quarters at a certain point.

GoGo heard voices. Happy voices. Voices talking, joking, and laughing, along with the sounds of utensils on plates, people eating.

She hadn't heard that in a long time.

GoGo made her way back up the hall and back to the other rooms of the Fred Cave. Though she didn't need any help getting up in the morning, the threat of tripping and getting face full of floor made her more awake and alert.

She kept on following the sounds till she ended up back in the kitchen.

GoGo blinked three times and pinched herself to make sure she wasn't having some sort of extended, hyper-realistic dream from all those weeks of sleep deprivation.

The inhabitants of the Fred Cave were having breakfast. 'Plates, spoons and forks, and cups' breakfast. An actual meal.

The plates didn't match, some of them were even chipped or carefully pieced and glued back together. The spoons and forks were an even more mismatched mess, some of them plastic, others stainless steel, some even wooden. Each cup was unique, if not for the style, then the writing on it.

Wasabi's used to be a plain white mug until he'd marked several levels on the outside of it, detailing all the different kinds of liquids that might end up inside it: “Toothbrushing Water Ration,” “Coffee” with extra marks for “Sugar” and “Creamer,” and “Mouthwash” among others.

It was about as normal as breakfasts got these days, given the circumstances.

Honey Lemon looked up from her plate. “Oh, hey GoGo!” She waved. “You made it to breakfast! Want some? We're having 'Whatever' vegetable stir-fry, it's pretty good!”

“It's 100% home grown, organic, I can guarantee you that!” Wasabi added.

GoGo looked at the table, where there was a conspicuously empty chair. There was a plate, a mismatched set of utensils, and a mug, unused.

 _Her_ place.

GoGo blinked back the sudden rush of tears in her eyes. She grunted at Honey Lemon, made her way to the kitchen, and sat down.

Honey Lemon gave her a helping of what they were having, and conversation continued as if GoGo joining them for breakfast was a regular thing.

Like she belonged here.

* * *

Groups. Organizations. Teams.

GoGo was never much for them unless it was forced on her. Even then, it was pretty obvious she wasn't a team player.

Teachers, parents, classmates, all of them tried to “fix” it, make her a little more sociable, make her be more amiable to friends, make her want to work with others rather than just do things herself.

Then she graduated high school, and everyone stopped caring. She wasn't a teenager anymore: she was an adult, one that could deal with her own problems.

Working as a bike courier didn't need much in the way of teamwork, either. There was coordinating with the post office but even that was outsourced to phones, GPS, and the internet. Unless GoGo failed to deliver a package—and she never failed—she'd never have to meet or speak to any of her coworkers.

And besides, it's not like a fixie had any allowance for a second rider, especially because there weren't any bars to step on like a BMX bike.

GoGo went through her adult life just fine being alone and independent. Crappy apartment, but that was okay, she only ever slept in it, anyway. Measly pay, but that was okay, her bike was covered by the post office, and she never wanted for more than a pack of gum, a long series of roads, and the occasional beer. No friends to speak of, but that was okay, she got her fill of socialization from all the other random strangers she came across on her day to day life.

Then the zombies came, and everything changed.

Teamwork became hit or miss. Governments struggled with a problem you couldn't push aside with a different problem and help from the media. Military forces lost in great numbers against a foe that would not tire, would not rest, and would not stop. And people? When the apocalypse comes and everything goes to hell, you see people for what they really are.

Or people just panic. And when people panic, they're liable to do things.

Survivors gunning down the rest of their base before turning the gun on themselves. Arguments that turn bloody or steadily erode a base until the whole thing just collapses in a bloodbath—by zombies, raiders, or each other. Friends and family turning on each other as soon as it was convenient, deserting each other, and leaving them to fend for themselves.

Or as GoGo more often than not saw, left behind to slow down the oncoming horde or satisfy the raiders.

Being independent was more important than ever. Aside from the fact that a Theirs always wanted someone who could take care of themselves, GoGo didn't need them in the first place. She went by just fine with her bags, her gun, and her supplies, scavenging for her needs and trading for whatever she couldn't find.

It worked. She survived. But then came the Fred Cave, with all their nice things.

And Honey Lemon, too.

“Bubblegum?”

GoGo's hands automatically grappled for a gun that wasn't there. She looked away from the slats in the boarded up windows and to Honey Lemon.

She was holding up a jar of gum sticks, a nice change from her pistol. “It's homemade. I tried to use what I remember from high school and culinary experiments, but I never could get the flavour to last more than a few seconds.”

GoGo stared at the pinkish-white sticks. Bubblegum. How long has it been since she's had a stick of those…?

Since her first time getting attacked by a zombie. Her neighbour bust in through her door, she stuck her gum to her kitchen table, and rushed out of her building as fast as she could.

Then, she rode out to the streets filled with panicking people, struggling police and soldiers, and zombies, and never looked back.

“It's on me, by the way. They don't trade so good.”

GoGo snapped out of her memories a second time and picked one of the sticks out of the jar. She popped it into her mouth, and started chewing. There was an explosion of artificial strawberry flavouring for a few seconds, before the juices quickly ran out and now GoGo was just chewing a flavourless piece of gum.

She didn't mind. She was used to it. Admittedly after a couple of hours, not seconds, of chewing but she was used to it.

Honey Lemon lowered the jar and smiled hopefully. “Still thinking about if you're going to join us or not?”

GoGo looked back at the streets outside. Empty, desolate, possibly crawling with rotten corpses or raiders.

She looked back at the Fred Cave. Full of life, clean, and well-equipped.

Most people would join immediately. But GoGo knew that first appearances could be deceiving; from what Wasabi said, the whole place could be just a dictatorship with a nice welcome bit, and after GoGo joined for real, she'd find that she couldn't leave.

Or maybe the Fred Cave really was that one in one hundred base that was actually competent, well-equipped, and nice, and GoGo was just missing out on a great opportunity.

GoGo blew a bubble as big as it could go, before it popped all by itself. She spent a long time getting it back into her mouth, before she replied.

“I need to think about it. Alone.”


	8. Tipping Point

“I'd ask you to promise me that you'll come back… but I know that's an iffy business these days.”

GoGo said nothing as Honey Lemon handed her back her shotgun, loaded and ready for action. She wore her jacket again, still grimy and bloody like Honey said it would be—she hadn't sprung for the cleaning in exchange for some supplies.

She didn't know how much she was going to need once she was back out there.

GoGo's bags were on her once more, repaired, reorganized, along with helpful marks and pointers from Wasabi and Fred about better weight distribution, how best to loot something, and where to store it. Already she was feeling the effects: she felt like she could run faster, scavenge more efficiently, and just have a better chance out there now that items weren't jabbing her or getting in the way when she moved.

She'd have to remember all of those. She doubted she'd be able to ask them again.

The door opened. In the morning light, the pitch black entrance now looked gray and gloomy. “Remorseful.” GoGo thought.

Honey Lemon forced a smile on her face as she gestured out the door, as if this was before the outbreak, and she was just showing GoGo to the door, as was polite.

Not like what it actually was: GoGo leaving the Fred Cave. Possibly for good.

“Can I give that permanent position offer one last shot? We really need you around, GoGo.” Honey Lemon paused, the smile breaking away into the frown it actually was.

“I need you around.”

GoGo stared at her. She stopped chewing her flavourless wad of bubblegum.

Honey Lemon sighed. “Look, I know it's probably just the zombie apocalypse, and me being single _waaay_ before the outbreak limited my choices, but--”

GoGo quickly laid her gun down on the floor, stepped over to Honey Lemon, and grabbed her shoulders. She pulled her down, lunged forward, and kissed her.

GoGo didn't know how long it lasted. The one thing she did know, however, was that after she pulled away, she wanted to do it again. And again, and again, and again.

But she didn't. Instead, she picked up her gun, readjusted her bags, and stepped out the door.

GoGo looked back at Honey Lemon. “I'll be back. I promise.” She wanted to say.

But she didn't. As Honey Lemon said, it was in iffy business.

Honey Lemon looked at GoGo one final time, before she shut the door on the Fred Cave on her.

GoGo stood in the pitch blackness, idly chewing her gum. She didn't leave till she heard the groaning and clicking of the heavy metal bars and bolts that kept it shut.

As GoGo wheeled her bike out of its hiding place, she took a good look at the exterior of the Fred Cave and any buildings she could use as landmarks.

It'd be good to commit the Theirs in memory, if ever she found herself in the area again. Maybe she'd be back.

Maybe.

She pedaled off, back into the streets, going where the supplies were, fending for herself and herself alone.

GoGo caught a high-pitched, girly shriek from the Fred Cave before it disappeared from sight.

* * *

“Come with us.”

It wasn't a request, it was a command. One that was made at gunpoint, with the help of a military assault rifle.

The soldiers could have all but one bullet each in those clips, and some of them might have even been empty, but GoGo didn't want to find out, and so did the rest of the people on the back of their trucks.

They loaded GoGo's bike with her, let her keep her bags, but they took her shotgun away from her.

“Don't get any funny ideas.” Their leader said before they shut the back of the bed on GoGo.

She looked at the people around her—a mix of capable looking survivors, military personnel, and the odd survivor that looked scared, inexperienced, and confused still, even this long into the apocalypse.

“Before you ask, none of us know what's going on, either.” One of them said.

GoGo nodded. She got as comfortable as she could, squeezed in like sardines with at least a dozen other people, and watched the street signs and the landmarks go by as the convoy chugged on through the empty streets.

* * *

Hope's Dare used to be a military base, until it got overrun and was abandoned. This was in the early days of the apocalypse, the first few weeks when no one truly understood what was happening, the zombies were fresh and a force to be reckoned with, and the anarchy from the survivors was another disaster altogether.

Now that the weeks had come and gone, the survivors had adapted to life in the apocalypse, the zombies had rotted and sometimes literally fallen apart on their own, and the number of alive humans was down to much more manageable levels, it had been retaken, rebuilt, and retrofitted.

It had all the usual trappings of a military base—barracks, communications room, tents and makeshift infirmaries set up when they were ferrying the injured and ill in, before they realized that was often just making sure the zombies didn't have to breach your walls to get in.

Like the Fred Cave, additional features had been jury-rigged, though Hope's Dare was a lot more open and obvious given the size of their operations. Most of the area had been turned into a farm of sorts, people growing crops in all manner of containers; rain catchers and filters had been built on roofs and in strategic points; defenses had been made out of salvage and stolen material.

Signs were a frequent sight and component on their constructions, oftentimes stolen, modified, and/or defaced.

“ _Some_ Quarantine, _huh?”_

 ~~“~~ ~~Remain~~ _Screw_ Calm, ~~Don't~~ Panic”

“Please proceed to your ~~nearest Evacuation Center~~ _Doom_ ”

The last one had a list of other military bases, hospitals, schools, and other areas people were herded into before the government lost all control. The names had either been crossed out, or written over indicating their new name when they became a Theirs or a Hive of infamy.

What bothered GoGo was the names of bases that had been crossed out, like “Old Stone.”

The whole place was run by one Sergeant Brown and her officers. Officially, she had defected weeks ago, and was no longer a military officer nor allowed to wear her fatigues, but GoGo figured she still used them because it gave her authority.

Not that the stone-faced, humourless, and intimidating woman standing in front of the assembled crowd of survivors needed them to get people to listen to and obey her.

“You are all here for one simple reason: join us, or die.” Brown said.

Everyone was silent. The numerous guards with assault rifles and shotguns saw to that. They hadn't shot anyone yet, and everyone was keen on keeping it that way.

“The government as you knew it is dead. What's left of the military is running about like chickens with their heads cut off, desperate for orders from a chain of command that doesn't exist anymore. Modern society is history.

“The only hope we have for survival is if we all work together.

“All of you have been taken from civilian bases, or picked up from the streets. Some of you by will, some of you by force.”

More than a few faces in the crowd turned sour and fumed. GoGo assumed the ones that had protested or got violent had already been taken care of.

“If you choose it, you will join us here in Hope's Dare; you will work for us, you will train train for us; and you will fight for us.

“And in return, we will help you, we will care for you, we will help each other survive.

“This is one of the most well-equipped fortresses to date. I personally ensure that I and my fellow officers keep things running smoothly, efficiently, and peacefully—or else.” Brown narrowed her eyes at certain members of the crowd.

Someone broke out of formation and rushed her. A guard, ex-military, casually smashed the butt of their gun into their head and the rioter crumpled to the floor. Just as calmly, a second soldier pulled them away, and held their gun to their head in case the blow had killed them.

Sergeant Brown resumed speaking as if nothing had happened.

“We have everything you need: food, water, medicine, shelter, and protection. We have outposts and farms, teams of scavengers, engineers, and guards, all working in concert to ensure that we will live to see another day.

“There is no logical reason for you to refuse our offer. We give you the best chance to survive, to prosper, that we will eventually rebuild society from these ruins, starting with Hope's Dare.

“And should you choose to refuse, return back to the streets and to your petty little safe havens: know that we will only ask you to join us _once.”_ Brown narrowed her eyes.

“All of you who accept, proceed to the screening tent on my right! All of you who refuse, report to the guards immediately behind you so that they may return your equipment and your belongings. We will not shoot you, unless you shoot back, or you come back into our sights again.

“Are we clear?”

There was a quiet murmur of agreement.

Sergeant Brown growled. “I said: are we _clear?!”_

There was a resounding “Yes ma'am!” from the crowd.

Brown nodded and smiled. “Good. Dismissed!”

The assembly broke formation. Most headed to the screening tent, the rest headed to the gates.

GoGo wandered around the places the guards would let her in, doing her usual business trading and asking around behind buildings or in shady, hidden corners. Like any base, the occupants of Hope's Dare still wanted certain luxuries and goods, and were willing to pay for it.

“You know, it's not too late to join, since you're technically not out of the base yet.” One of them said as GoGo traded them a pack of cigarettes. “Even if most of what Sarge said is totally bull.”

GoGo silently asked them to continue.

“We don't have everything you need—not with the numbers Sarge keeps pulling in everyday. Pretty soon something's gotta give. But then, she needs those numbers if she's going to get what we _need.”_

They gestured to the fence and the building around them. “All those bases out there? They have something that let them last this long. And Sarge _wants_ it.” They started rattling off bases they'd already destroyed or absorbed, then went on about the “hit list” of future targets.

GoGo listened intently, mentally taking note and crossing out names on her Theirs list.

“… And Sarge is _really_ gung-ho about this place called the Fred Cave.”

GoGo stopped. Her gum almost fell out of her mouth.

The Hope's Dare survivor chuckled. “Yeah, I know, stupid name, but it's just a handful of people and the one kid that managed to survive this long, so you _know_ they've gotta have something good there.” They rattled off a few more bases and some news and chatter before they excused themselves.

“I gotta go, find someplace to actually smoke these.” The Hope's Dare survivor waved goodbye. “You take care, now.”

“You too.” GoGo mumbled before she made her way to the gate.

A guard was waiting there with her bags, her gun, and her bike, all intact and untouched.

“I'm obliged to remind you we have everything you need to survive, and that this is your last chance to join us.” The guard said as they opened the gate for her.

GoGo grunted, remounted her bike, and started peddling as fast as she could from Hope's Dare.

It did have everything she could ever need to survive in the apocalypse.

Everything except Honey Lemon and her friends.


	9. Base Sweet Base

She was sweating, she was panting, her legs ached and her lungs burned for air.

She was in no shape to fight anything or anyone, was at great risk of falling down from hunger or thirst, and couldn't keep herself awake for more than another two hours at best.

And yet she still had the Gauntlet to contend with.

GoGo stared at the floor full of traps before her, with its springs, its pressure panels, and its discrete holes in the walls and the ceilings containing some _very_ unpleasant surprises. The traps she could see had changed since last time, some sprung and awaiting a reset, some awaiting further assembly or repair, some replaced entirely.

And this wasn't even counting the new devices she could see, hints that the Fred Cave had suddenly upped security and intended to stop both zombies _and_ survivors before they even reached the stairs.

She debated risking running up the stairs and getting creamed by one of the traps, or being too late to tell the others about Hope's Dare. _'Which is worse?'_ she wondered as she slumped on the doorframe.

_THWACK!_

GoGo paled as she noticed a spring loaded, L-shaped bar with a heavy blunt edge right above her head. A trap that would have dealt with her nicely if she was just a little bit taller or angled just a tiny bit less.

 _'Yeah, not going into that any time soon.'_ she thought. GoGo slowly, carefully stepped away from the doorway while trying to touch absolutely nothing, turning around with her shotgun first.

“GoGo!”

She turned and raised her gun to the voice. Again, GoGo was happy she always put her hand on the trigger guard.

Honey Lemon rode her own bicycle back to the base, stopping a short distance away from GoGo before stepping off. Bags were strapped to her body, she'd exchanged her dress for a more practical jeans and shirt combo, and she had her pistol in a little sling.

“You're back!”

GoGo never put her gun down faster than she had then. Out of habit, she looked around Honey Lemon, checking the area behind her for any zombies or survivors that might have come to investigate, before looking back at her again.

“Yeah, I--”

Honey Lemon held her hand up. Then, she gestured for GoGo to follow her into the alley, one that was mostly out of sight.

GoGo wordlessly obeyed, happy someone else had remembered that _extremely_ important second-hand lesson.

Honey Lemon dug into her pack and handed GoGo a bottle of water. GoGo almost broke the cap twisting it open before she started chugging it all down.

GoGo gasped in relief, and handed the bottle back. Honey waited for GoGo to catch her breath before wordlessly asking her to start talking.

“Yeah, I am. And I _really_ need to get inside the Fred Cave. Can you help me?”

Honey Lemon shook her head. “Can't. No one's getting in through the Gauntlet anymore—the others have made sure of that. You'll need to be a permanent member to use the only way in, too.” She suddenly looked hopeful. “That is why you came back, right? To join us?”

GoGo nodded. “What do I need to do?”

Honey Lemon smiled. “Follow me.” She stepped up to the wall of wooden planks right beside them, groped around a specific plank, and quietly pulled it open, just enough for her and GoGo to slip inside.

The alley beside the Fred Cave wasn't trapped, but they did have a series mirrors set up all over the place, along with a number of boarded up windows with spacious slats that someone could easily use to shoot at anyone down below.

Honey Lemon stepped up to a drain pipe on the side. With the help of her gun, she started tapping out a tune on the metal.

_Dun, dun, dun, dun-du-dun, dun-du-dun._

Up above, GoGo watched as what she thought was a just another boarded up window suddenly disappear. Wasabi peeked out with his gun handy, saw Honey Lemon and GoGo, and nodded. He went back inside, and soon enough, GoGo was watching a homemade elevator descend down into the alley.

“You had an elevator this entire time, and you made me run through the Gauntlet _twice_?” GoGo said as she and Honey Lemon walked to it.

Honey Lemon chuckled as she stepped on. “Perks of being a member.”

GoGo scowled and stewed as she followed suit.

Honey Lemon grinned as the platform went back up. “What, you thought we ran through the Gauntlet every time we needed to get out or back in?”

* * *

Fred was in the Radio Room. The radios were still on and operational, but now all the receivers were left on the tables and their handles, the whole room disturbingly, ominously silent.

GoGo stood in the doorway and she made sure not lean on it.

“Hey.”

Fred lowered his comic book, saw GoGo, and smiled. He put it down on a nearby table, got up from his chair, and walked over to her with his hand out.

“Hey GoGo! As leader of the Fred Cave, I welcome you as our newest member!”

GoGo grunted and gave him a quick, passable shake of the hand. “What do you need me to do?”

“Mostly just scavenging for supplies, ammo, and trap materials, but if you can tell me why everyone's suddenly zipped lips and won't return our calls, that'd be great.”

GoGo frowned and nodded. “Call the others. You'll all want to hear this.”

They met at the kitchen table, nothing set out but scrap paper, notepads, and an abundance of pens from all sorts of sources, so long as they still wrote.

“Just so we're all on the same page here: this past week, we've seen a _huge_ drop in communications, trading, and requests from all of our contacts.” Wasabi said. “At first, we just assumed someone had run out of batteries or power, but then five bases running out of power all at once in three days was too big of a coincidence to blame on that.

“We've tried to figure out what's going on, but every base we've gotten to personally has clammed up, holed up tight, or told us to leave—among other things. We've got absolutely no idea what's going on, but we've been seeing some disturbing signs from the other neighbourhoods and districts.

“Things like lots of gunfire and smoke in the distance, and military trucks rolling down the streets. No one spends that much gas on cars without good reason, and judging from the lack of official announcements from them, I'm guessing these soldiers aren't here to help us.

“And hopefully GoGo here is going to help us figure out just what the hell is going on.”

GoGo nodded, and started explaining all she knew about Hope's Dare, and their raiding and assimilation. Their reactions varied, from Wasabi looking pensive, to Fred's frown growing deeper and deeper the more he heard, to Hiro taking on a serious, focused look, obviously only half-listening to the briefing as he started sketching and making notes on the papers.

“… They couldn't tell me just what order they're going to hit the bases, but I know we're definitely on the list.”

Fred nodded gravely. “Thanks, GoGo, that helps out a lot. I had my suspicions something like that was what was going on.” He stood up from the table, looking completely different from the contented slacker in his chair GoGo knew him as.

“All right, everyone, listen up!

“Wasabi, Honey Lemon, get to harvesting and preserving food food that's easy to eat, easy to store, and hard to rot; preparing water to go; and any medicine or medical supplies we might need outside. All things go downhill, we don't want to starve to death or get sick out there.

“Hiro, GoGo, you two are going to be extremely busy!” Fred pointed to Hiro. “I want you building traps, the nastiest, most effective machines you can make along with some grenades or things we can toss out during combat.”

He pointed to GoGo. “And I want you out there finding valuable supplies we can use for our own stores, and the materials Hiro's going to need to make those traps. Ignore luxury goods for now; we'll worry about trading when someone isn't hunting us down.

“Prioritize perishable foods first when eating here, double-check your emergency to go bags, make sure to stay hydrated, get as much rest as you can, and relax sometimes! We all need to be operating 100%, so no one better be hungry, stressed out, or tired if they can help it!

“We don't know when these guys are coming for us, and I'd rather it not be with our pants down.”

Fred clapped his hands. “You know where to go, dismissed! Except you, GoGo, you're coming with me to the radio room so I can give and teach you how to use our portable radio.”

Everyone got up from the table and went their separate ways. GoGo stepped in line behind Fred as he left.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Oh, and GoGo?”

GoGo looked at him and gave him a look that said, “What?”

Fred smiled. “The password's 'Godzilla did nothing wrong.'”


	10. Talk Tragedy To Me

“I'll be back later.”

GoGo stood up on her tiptoes to give Honey Lemon a kiss on the cheek before she stepped out the window and onto the elevator. Most of her normal bags had been replaced by two very large sacks, her shotgun in her hand along with a lighter semi-automatic pistol by her new belt.

“See you then, GoGo!” Honey Lemon smiled and waved goodbye before pulled the lever and sent the elevator down.

GoGo steadied herself as the platform began to sway and rock, and looked out to the streets before her.

These past few days, she found herself missing regular survival scavenging or the old Shopping List runs, if only because it was easy to find what she was looking for exactly.

* * *

GoGo had never really looked at the traps of the Fred Cave, save for trying to figure out how best not to get caught in them. Now that she needed to find parts for them, she was starting to realize just how creative, ingenious, and downright insidious they could be.

A golf club could be used as a stabilizer for a swinging arm meant to break or brain. You could use metal rulers to create a launching mechanism. Wire coat hangers had many more potentially lethal uses than GoGo had ever realized they could.

If rest weren't such a precious and welcome commodity, she thought she'd have trouble sleeping, knowing she was sharing a room with a teen genius that'd make the likes of Jigsaw tear up in pride.

No wonder Wasabi never asked for a full inventory on Hiro's parts and inventions—it'd mean he'd have to personally confirm the lists and step into the Hallway to Hell (Hiro's affectionate nickname for his space, one that hadn't caught on).

“Where do you even get your ideas?” GoGo asked as she stood in Hiro's workshop, watching the inventor himself lay out his most commonly used parts and manufactured mechanisms.

“Eh, I've always been something of an inventing genius, but I have a lot to thank botfighting for.” Hiro said as he laid out parts and modified scrap onto tables and the floor. “Tadashi said I'd never get anywhere in life doing it, but then the outbreak happened, and he was eating his words _pretty_ darn quickly.”

Hiro chuckled and smiled for a moment, before it quickly turned into a frown.

GoGo stood by quietly, her expression unchanging.

“You can ask, if you want to.”

GoGo nodded. “Okay.”

Hiro looked at her expectantly.

She gave him a look that said, “What?”

“You mean you don't want to know?”

GoGo grunted an affirmative.

Hiro awkwardly returned to his work.

GoGo smiled. “You can tell me anyway, if you want to.”

Hiro stopped and smiled back at GoGo. Then, he took a deep breath, and started telling the story.

“Tadashi was my best friend for my entire life; the two of us were pretty much inseparable.

“Always hanging out, just having a great time just being together; always getting into trouble, mostly by inventing things out of other things we shouldn't have dismantled for parts; and when I got into botfighting, he was always getting me out of all sorts of sticky situations.

“I don't really remember a time when we were really separated for a long, _long_ time. I mean, no matter what happened, even if he was off to school, even if we were in different classes, even if he was off to college, he was always living in the same house as me, living in the same room as me, just… being here, with me.

“And then the zombies came, and pretty soon… we only had each other.” Hiro paused.

“I don't know what brought me and Tadashi together with the others in the Fred Cave, but whatever it is, it wanted us to have the best chances of surviving this. The both of us made ourselves indispensable from the get-go, from the traps, to the improvements around the base, even making a few things for trading, before everyone learned how to make them in-house.

“Even when society was gone and chaos was on the streets, we still did everything together.

“Designed traps and inventions together, built them together, even convinced Fred to let us sleep in the same room together, like we always did. Heck, pretty much the only thing we _didn't_ do was go to the bathroom together, split the last package of gummy bears, and go out scavenging at the same time.

“Obviously, I'm still a kid, generally a bad idea to send me out when you've got lots of fully capable adults who can do the same thing, only better. And even if Tadashi helped with all the inventions, I was most of the brains for traps, the ones we needed most often.

“Plus, after all the rescues he's had to pull, Tadashi had gotten pretty good at making his way in and out all sorts of shady, dank, and just plain dangerous places.”

Hiro stopped as he pulled out examples of the smaller pieces, assorted nuts and bolts. “I used to wait and operate the elevator for him myself, you know? And back when the only way in was the ropes and ladders, I was the one who threw it down to him or helped pull him up.

“I stayed up late sometimes. Like, _really_ late. Bad idea, I know, but I couldn't sleep knowing Tadashi was still out there, with all the zombies, the raiders, and the general chaos on the streets.

“He always came home, though. Maybe a little grimier and bloodier than when he set out, maybe looking like complete and utter crap, sometimes empty handed and hurt… but alive.

“Then, one evening, we had a horde attack us—back when there were usually enough zombies for them to be a common thing.

“This was before we made the Gauntlet; back then, we hadn't counted on zombies of that number, or that so many of them would migrate from the other districts and right into ours…

“We tried our best to take them out, either with traps, or just shooting them, but there was just too many. Eventually, they were getting really, _really_ close to breaching the door and getting in, when Tadashi said he was going to go out and distract them.

“We didn't think much of it at the time—who tries to pick apart what someone actually means when there's zombies literally right outside your door trying to tear you apart? And by the time we saw him making his way to the elevator with a lighter and a tank of gasoline… it was already too late.

“Even though we started using bikes early on to save on gas, we always kept Tadashi's moped around, kept it fixed up and ready to go in case we needed to get somewhere fast.

“That night, Tadashi rode it out for the last time.

“I figured his plan really _was_ to distract them, but then he hadn't expected how many zombies were actually going to come after him...”

Hiro fell silent, stopped and stood in the center of his workshop now almost completely covered with salvage, parts, and junk.

GoGo carefully stepped over the mess, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him into a hug.

Hiro smiled, sniffed, and put his head to GoGo's chest. He resisted the urge to cry, but not much else.

“You know, you're the first person besides Honey Lemon I ever told this story to.”

GoGo just kept on quietly holding Hiro until he finally pulled away himself.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Anyway, enough about the past: let's talk about today and tomorrow.

“You can use pretty much anything for traps, but obviously, some things are just going to be more valuable and useful than others. I'd like to say there's a definitive guide and catalog to post-apocalyptic engineering, but it's rarely that neat.

“A good rule of thumb, though, is to try to see things from a new angle, see past what it's _supposed_ to be used for, then see what you can turn it into...”

* * *

Which was a lot easier said than done.

GoGo sighed as she stared up at a wall full of pipes, wondering if she should even try to remove them. They were in bad condition, as was expected, but were they too rusted and old to be of use for traps? Could Hiro still use them to build machines, or were they just going to be particularly heavy junk used for collapsing entrances, “avalanche” traps, and blocking hallways?

She was brought of her thoughts by the rumble of engines.

Military truck engines.

GoGo stepped away from any open windows and doorways, kept herself in darkness as she peered out to the street.

It was just as she feared: Hope's Dare was starting to move into their territory, every raider armed with an assault rifle at the most, a pistol at the least. Even Brown had joined her forces on the field, personally driving one of the trucks to their next target.

GoGo waited until they were gone before she pulled out her radio; even if they couldn't hear what she was actually saying, no doubt they had some form of equipment that could detect the transmissions, especially with secured lines being almost impossible to get these days.

“Fred Cave, this is GoGo. Come in, Fred Cave.”

She waited for a response. Nothing.

“Fred Cave? Fred? Honey? Hiro? Wasabi? Any of you guys there? I've got Hope's Dare trucks in the area looking like they all mean business—even Brown's with them.”

GoGo waited again. Still nothing.

She cursed, dropped her bags, and unloaded most of the contents into a little stash in the corner. She'd worry about getting the parts and supplies back later.

For now, she needed to get home.


	11. Riders On The Storm

The wreckage of one Hope's Dare trucks burned, the pillar of black smoke guiding GoGo back to the Fred Cave.

She hoped the rest of Hiro's homemade explosives were just as effective.

She hoped the Gauntlet was as deadly and as efficient as the others claimed it would be.

And most of all, she hoped everyone was okay—or at the very least, alive.

She had to ditch her bike when the roads became clogged with trucks, all parked to form a barricade that kept cover to their support gunners, and kept anyone from escaping once they were in the fray—Hope's Dare or Fred Cave.

GoGo ducked into a shady alley, peering out at the shooting, screaming, and fighting happening just a block away.

Numerous as the Hope's Dare raiders were, most of them were still just civilians who'd only learned how to handle a gun since the outbreak. The number of actual trained soldiers among them was spotty, and even if they were competent, they still had to deal with lacking equipment that was passably maintained at best, held together by prayers and duct tape at the worst.

And that wasn't even getting into the Gauntlet.

GoGo had known that if Hiro's traps ever got to deploy for real, the aftermath wouldn't be a pretty sight. And judging from the screaming and shouting, a mix of terror and of warnings, she was slightly glad she wasn't up there with them on the third floor, shooting and dropping unpleasant surprises down on the raiders.

Flour bombs tossed into the rooms to make blinding clouds. Tubs full of slippery liquids to make them lose their footing or slide straight into walls. Boxes of curry powder shaken down onto the raiders below to get in their eyes and noses. Most people would have called them ridiculous, silly, not quite stupid enough to even have a hope of working, and yet they were.

And then there were the more “conventional” hazards in the mix—homemade caltrops, broken glass, and even the rare homemade grenade.

Confusion, pain, and pure rage swarmed through the ranks. The Hope's Dare raiders died humiliating, cheap deaths by the dozen alongside the bullets and the wounds that officially did them in.

The smart ones turned around and fled, even if it meant getting shot at by their own allies to remind them of the price to pay for desertion.

The stupid, the daring, and the vengeful kept on pushing forward amidst all the blood and corpses.

The unlucky ones were trapped there with them.

And once the bodies started reanimating, Hope's Dare's fate was sealed.

A few got back into their trucks and left behind shouting soldiers screaming treachery, and desperate stragglers weeping and pointlessly begging and yelling at them to stop, come back, and take them, too.

The battle was far from over, however, with the zombies joining the fray. Hope's Dare kept on fighting—stupidity, bravado, or just the desire to go down shooting, who knew.

GoGo prayed to whatever forces above there had kept her and her friends safe so far. She dashed out of the alley and to one of the Fred Cave's neighbouring buildings, where one of their emergency exit-entrances were waiting.

She made it into the door and up the stairs without getting shot, which was a good thing.

The raiders saw her and gave chase, which wasn't.

“It's her!” The same Hope's Dare survivor she'd sold the cigarettes to cried. “She's the one that sold us out!”

Whether they were on official orders or a need for vengeance, it didn't matter to GoGo. She was too busy thundering up the stairs, pulling down barricades, ducking out of the line of fire of traps, and kicking away the support beams that kept the avalanche traps up.

The raiders didn't stop, just kept on pushing forward in spite of the obstacles and the deaths and injuries of their allies. It was a small comfort they couldn't fire at will.

GoGo rammed the last door with her shoulder, staggered out to the roof, got blinded by the late morning sun. She looked out before her, saw a vast expanse of empty roof, and a wooden platform jutting out the edge and looking over the Fred Cave.

The Leap of Faith.

It wasn't actually that large, or terrifying, and making the jump was actually pretty easy, provided you had two working legs, a running start, and some exercise under your belt. There was even a landing strip down below on the roof—not necessarily professional stunt air cushion levels of protection, but so long as you landed right and rolled the rest of the way, you wouldn't break something.

However, a single misstep or a mistimed jump was all it took for you to end up falling down several stories and into the Pit.

GoGo gritted her teeth and started running. The handful of raiders that had made it to the roof were already firing at her by the time she made the jump.

Time seemed to slow down, as GoGo spun and flailed in mid-air, bracing herself for the landing.

_Thump._

Though she definitely didn't break anything, it hurt still like hell. But there wasn't any time to care about that—GoGo picked herself up, and started running to the emergency entrance into the Fred Cave.

She'd worry about if she was shot or not later.

The Hope's Dare raiders ran up to the edge and tried to shoot at her once more, peppering the air and the landing strip with bullets.

One tried to make the leap, came short, and fell down screaming for a few seconds before they abruptly stopped once they landed in the Pit.

GoGo slipped behind the barricade covering the entrance, frantically pulled open the bars and locks that kept it shut. Just as she pushed it open, she heard a second Hope's Dare raider land on the roof with her.

_Bang! Bang!_

GoGo blindly fired her shotgun out of cover. She threw the empty, smoking gun into the base, pulled out her pistol and dared to look out of cover.

The Hope's Dare raider was dead. She looked up and saw their friends had given up the chase, too.

She stepped out of cover, aimed her pistol at the corpses head, and unloaded three bullets into its head.

She ran into the base, shut the door, and collapsed the entrance.

Then she picked up her shotgun, reloaded it, and ran into the base to help the others.

* * *

 

Hours later, after the stragglers had been killed, the corpses had been shot twice in the head or had it thoroughly bashed in, and the bodies and abandoned trucks looted, the Fred Cave made a hill of the dead raiders right outside their door.

They put Sergeant Brown in last.

Fred poured the gasoline.

Wasabi lit the match.

GoGo kept watch over the both of them.

If there were any others thinking of raiding the Fred Cave, the giant pillar of smoke rising into the sky that afternoon stopped them.


	12. Improbable Is Not Impossible

GoGo woke up to the smell of awful, cheap instant coffee.

She pushed herself up from her bed—where she'd passed out shortly after they'd put the Fred Cave on lockdown—and looked at Honey Lemon standing beside her, the mug in hand, a hopeful smile on her face.

“Had a nice nap?”

GoGo made a grunt that could have gone either way. She sat up on the edge of the bed, took the mug, and warmed her hands on it for a moment.

“So, what're you buttering me up for this time?” She asked before she took a sip.

Honey Lemon frowned. “It's best if I show you.”

* * *

A water collection and purification system took up most of the Infirmary, more pipes, barrels, and filters of varying levels of jury-rigging than the 3C. It covered the floors, the walls, and the ceilings, some of it reaching up to the gutters on the roof.

Like the line outside leading into the Hallway to Hell, warning signs and great care had been taken to keep tampering and destructive accidents at bay.

Taking up slightly less space was the laboratory, where actual professional chemistry equipment shared space with less professional kitchen stoves, pots, pans, and dishes to make up for what was missing.

And kept in an expansive and well-barricaded corner were the Fred Cave's stores of medicine and medical equipment, kept in tightly sealed containers, clearly labeled, with instructions about what to use and when you could use them.

Their boxes antibiotics had a very big sign on in front of it:

A sniffle is **not** caused by bacteria.

\- W

Honey Lemon and GoGo passed by the cots and the beds in the other corners, with their folded up blankets and unused curtains. They paused for Honey Lemon to put on an apron and start stocking it with medicine and medical equipment.

They finally stopped in front of a heavy metal door, just like the one they used for the Gauntlet entrance.

Barricades surrounded it, alongside an alarm system composed of bells and trip wires. Bolts, chains, and heavy steel bars kept it shut. Signs covered it:

“Quarantine”

“Danger!”

“Bio-Hazard”

Honey Lemon handed GoGo her pistol. “Don't hesitate to shoot if something goes wrong.” She down at the floor. “I know I will...”

GoGo nodded, stepped back, and aimed at the doorway while Honey Lemon removed the locks and pulled the door open. The way the it swung, whoever opened it was safely behind it, whoever was standing point would have a clear view and shot at whatever was inside.

“Tadashi…?”

GoGo's aim wavered.

The room was tiny. Probably a spacious closet renovated into what it was today. There was little in it but an end table, a light, and a tiny window. In the furthest corner from the door was Hiro, laying on a cot on the floor.

His face burned. Sweat poured down his body. Bloody bandages covered his chest. He fidgeted and whined pathetically, eyes frantically darting every which way.

With the gun in her hand, GoGo felt like she had been sent to put a dying animal out of its misery.

“You first.” Honey Lemon mumbled. “Press it right up to his head—you can't afford to miss.”

GoGo grunted and stepped in carefully, aim never wavering, her finger ready to slip off the guard and on the trigger at a moment's notice.

“Tadashi…?” Hiro's eyes widened in fear. He started squirming and crying, feebly trying to raise his arms and defend himself.

GoGo pressed the barrel to his head. Her eyes darted between Hiro's face and his hands. The way he was now, he could do little more than give GoGo the barest sensation of a scratch, but she knew that could change in an instant.

With the dying and delirious, the line between living and zombie was blurry.

Honey Lemon forced a smile on her face. “Calm down, Hiro,” she said as she stepped in. “It's just us, Honey Lemon and GoGo.”

“Honey?” Hiro's squriming slowed. “Where's Tadashi?”

GoGo could feel the intense pain flash through Honey Lemon.

“He's not here right now, Hiro...” Honey Lemon's voice wavered. She picked up a bottle from her apron and a spoon. “I'll tell you where he is later, when you're all better, okay?”

Hiro groaned and scowled, mumbling angrily under his breath. Honey Lemon poured the medicine and tried to feed it to him, but he kept on trying to bat it away.

Honey Lemon sighed. “Hold him down.”

GoGo put one hand off her gun and held down an arm. Honey Lemon grabbed the other, and all but shoved the spoon into Hiro's mouth

Hiro choked and spluttered. Honey Lemon had to let go and force him to swallow.

GoGo scowled as she held down Hiro's arm even tighter, looking between his hand and his mouth. Honey Lemon's fingers were too close for either of their liking.

Eventually, Honey Lemon got him to down it, and washed it down with some water. She started singing something in a foreign tongue—a Spanish lullaby of some sort, GoGo figured—until Hiro fell into fitful, uneasy sleep.

She shook her head, and started wiping the sweat off of him. “Don't remove the gun until I say so.”

A few minutes later, Honey Lemon gathered up her supplies, and walked out of the room.

“Go.” Honey Lemon whispered from the door. “Carefully, slowly. You don't want to wake him up… or let him know you're here.”

GoGo started backpedaling away, the gun still trained at Hiro. Neither of them relaxed until Honey Lemon closed the door and slid the last lock back into place.

“Keep the gun for now, just in case.” Honey Lemon mumbled as she pressed her back to the wall and slumped on it, her eyes down to the floor.

GoGo frowned. “… What happened?”

Honey Lemon didn't look up. “An accident.”

* * *

“Is there anyone out there with a doctor?! I repeat, we have food, we have water, we have medicine, we have ammunition, we have fuel—we can trade whatever you want, all we ask for is just four-six hours of their time!”

From the doorway, GoGo watched Fred sit back in his chair, staring at the radios and the transmitters in front of him.

After five minutes of silence, he picked up the receiver for the military radio again.

“I'm going back to Hope's Dare.” GoGo said. “See if they have any medical supplies or doctors we can steal or smuggle back here.”

Fred's hand stopped over the receiver. He spun in his chair and looked at GoGo.

“Are you serious?”

GoGo nodded once. “If there's any better time to try and strike or sneak in to loot their stuff, it'll be now.”

Fred looked at GoGo for a few moments. “You realize the chances of you actually coming back, let alone coming back with what or who we need are pretty slim, right?”

GoGo grunted.

Fred went silent for a few moments. “You get to the kitchen; I'll get the others.” He turned around to his radios, shut off most of them, and took one of the portable ones with him.

“This plan is insane, dangerous, and improbable. You're not doing it without being prepared with supplies, equipment, and a plan.”

* * *

“I'm coming with her.” Honey Lemon said.

Fred shook his head sadly. “No, you're not, Honey. The chances of success are up by only a teensy weensy bit if there's two of you—and just a little bit more if one of you decides you're not making it back either way.”

“It's two of us against three.” Wasabi continued. “I'm sorry, Honey, but it's just math.”

Honey Lemon slammed her hands on the kitchen table. “I don't care! I'm not losing another one to the apocalypse!”

Fred's expression was unchanged. “The answer's still 'No.'”

Honey Lemon turned her head to GoGo, a frantic, desperate look on her face. “You'll let me join you, right, GoGo?”

GoGo stared at her for a few seconds.

“No.”

The room got deathly quiet, except for the crackle of Fred's portable radio.

Honey Lemon got up from her seat, the chair sliding back with an awful screech. She stormed up to GoGo, grabbed her by the shoulders, and spun her around to face her. She scowled, her fingernails dug into GoGo's skin, anger and tears filled her eyes.

“ _Promise me you'll come back!_ I don't care if you do—I'm _not_ letting you do this until you _promise me_ you'll come back.”

GoGo looked up and straight into Honey Lemon's eyes.

“I promise.”

Honey Lemon let go and spun on her heel. “You can get Wasabi or Fred to see you out this time! I'm not kissing you goodbye again until you come back from Hope's Dare, you hear me?!” Tears started streaming down her cheeks.

GoGo slowly reached out to her.

Honey Lemon stormed away before she could touch her.


	13. When All You Have Is Hope

“It's the Fred Cave!” One of the Hope's Dare guards shouted from their position high up above in an abandoned building.

GoGo cursed, and started pedaling faster.

“No, no! Don't run!” A different guard shouted as they ran out into the street and into GoGo's way. “We only want to talk to you!”

GoGo swerved to avoid them. She cursed as she saw more guards come out of hiding.

Up above, a series of bells started ringing, going further and further into the street until it stopped at Hope's Dare.

GoGo stopped her bike, straddled it as she pulled out her gun, prepared to take out at least two of them before they got her.

“No, don't shoot!” One of the guards cried. “We surrender! We only want to talk to you!”

GoGo's hand stopped on top of the trigger, aimed right at the guard that had run in her way.

The guards quickly started dropping their weapons and raising their arms up into the air or behind their backs.

GoGo debated the chances of it being a trap. But the chances of them getting attacked out in the open were far higher—especially with only one of them armed amidst a circle of weaponless survivors.

“Pick your guns back up. I'll go with you.”

The guards obeyed. Instead of aiming their weapons at GoGo, as she expected, they pointed it every which way away from her.

Like they were escorting her, rather than keeping an eye on her.

GoGo didn't let herself relax. Maybe this was exactly what they wanted her to do before they killed her.

But it wasn't like she had much choice right now.

* * *

Hope's Dare had changed dramatically since the last time GoGo was there. The most noticeable was that there were suddenly a lot less people.

What few guards were remaining watched her warily but made no attempt to intimidate or antagonize her. The other survivors in the base avoided eye contact with her. The two people escorting her looked like they were just barely keeping their nerves in check.

Word of their brutal defeat at the hands of the Fred Cave spread fast, it seemed.

They went deep into the base—deeper than GoGo had been in during her first visit—until they ended up in a meeting room inside one of the concrete buildings.

There was only one person sitting at the head of the table, a beautiful woman with heavy bags under her eyes, her tall frame sagging with the weight of exhaustion and worry, her striking platinum blonde hair grimy, oily, and even bloody at some points.

The guards stood at either side of GoGo as she stepped in.

The woman looked up, saw her, and smiled. She stood up from her seat and waved at the guards.

“You may leave us now.”

The two guards obeyed quickly, exited the room, and locked the door behind them. GoGo heard their footsteps quickly go down the hall, till they disappeared down the stairs, and out of hearing range.

The floor outside was all but empty, for all GoGo could see of it. There was either an ambush waiting in the other rooms, or she and the woman from Hope's Dare were the only people there.

And more poignantly, GoGo was the only one visibly armed.

“Hello. My name's Elsa. I used to be one of Sergeant Brown's officers, and am currently acting for her as the rest of my associates have either deserted us, or voted me into the position. Your name would be?”

“Call me GoGo.”

Elsa nodded. “Before we begin, GoGo, would you happen to know if Sergeant Brown died in the assault on the Fred Cave?”

GoGo grunted an affirmative.

Elsa's expression was unchanged. “Thank you for clearing that up for me. Would you like to take a seat, or would you rather remain standing? I won't blame you if you don't, though I assure you: the seat isn't trapped, nor are there any ambushes waiting for you.”

GoGo remained standing. Elsa sat back down in her chair.

“I'll make this quick: we want to join you in the Fred Cave.”

GoGo blinked. Her finger tightened on the trigger guard as she debated pointing her gun at Elsa.

“As you might have guessed, Sergeant Brown was a very big force in keeping Hope's Dare together and running. After we failed to make contact with Brown or any of the raiding party she had with her during the assault on the Fred Cave—my apologies for that, however little it might mean—many of her fellow ex-military forces went out in search for her or deserted their posts.

Elsa looked down at the table. “And after we saw the smoke, almost everyone else started leaving, too.

Elsa sighed and looked back up. “We're just waiting for the raiders to come, pillage what remains of the base, or kill us all, really. We have supplies, we have some of our experts and skilled workers left behind, but fat lot of good that's going to do the rest of us now that we don't have the guards or most of the fighting force that kept raiders at bay by sheer intimidation.

“Our only hope is to join an existing base, or miraculously whip up office workers, 20-30 something's, and the occasional college student into a crack fighting force within the next three days.

“I think we both know what's going to be more likely.”

GoGo paused and thought about it for a few moments.

“Do you have medical supplies?”

“Tons. Bandages, antibiotics, even some prescription drugs, blood transfusions, and morphine we've been keeping stored and fresh as much as possible.”

“Do you have a doctor?”

Elsa shook her head. “Not officially. I am, however, a medical student in my third year, which is about as close as you're going to get in this entire base. Trust me, though: I've learned all the new SOPs and procedures for when all you have is a pot of boiling water for sterilization, old clothes for bandages, and 'clean environment' means there isn't much visible blood or grime on the sheets.”

“What other experts do you have?”

“Carpenters, mechanics, even a smattering of inventors, either before the apocalypse, or they got very good at it after all this time. My sister and her friend can build almost anything out of everything, we have a handyman who really _can_ fix anything, and one man who's a pick-up truck and a wrecking crew all rolled into one, extremely useful for many projects.

“This isn't even counting the scavengers we have left and the ex-military that hasn't deserted us. One of the other sergeants may be strict like Brown, but I assure you, she's far nicer and more compassionate.

“As you can see, we're pretty set for everything except for security. Which is why we need to join you.”

GoGo thought about it for a good five minutes. Across the room, Elsa waited patiently, never commenting or speaking up once.

“Where's your radio room?”

* * *

“Fred Cave, this is GoGo. Come in, Fred Cave.”

“ _Fred Cave here, I read you GoGo. Where'd new get the new radio? I don't recognize this frequency. Over.”_

“It's Hope's Dare's. Over.”

Fred whistled. _“Was it abandoned or something?_ _O_ _ver.”_

“Far from it. They want to join us. I've seen their supplies and met their experts, Fred; they can be a big, big help to us. They even have a doctor.”

“I'd like to clarify I didn't actually get my medical degree, but yes, I've gotten pretty good at post-apocalyptic medical care!” Elsa butted in.

“ _Sounds good to me. Except for one thing, GoGo. Over.”_

GoGo frowned. “What is it? Over.”

“ _I forgot to explain it to you, but here at the Fred Cave, we have a rule: whoever you bring in, you're responsible for them._

_"If they screw up, you've screwed up._

“ _If they use up more than their allowance of resources, it's coming out of yours, even if you're not aware of it._

“ _And if they get kicked out, you're going with them._

“ _It's what Honey Lemon's risking ever since she brought you in as a permanent member. Don't think she's ever told you, either.”_

GoGo froze in place, stunned.

“ _I'm sorry, GoGo, but in the end, I have to think of the Fred Cave first and foremost, and part of that is making sure everyone's gonna think long and hard before trying to bring someone in—or an entire new base. Over.”_

GoGo's grip tightened on the receiver. “Copy that. Will call you back later, GoGo out.”

GoGo handed the receiver back to Hope's Dare's radio operator. She turned around, leaned back on the edge of the table, and started thinking.

Though she, Elsa, and the operator were the only people allowed in the room, it was hard not to notice the people listening just outside, especially Anna, the redhead with the teal eyes trying and failing to discretely look in through the window in the door.

“I won't hold it against you if you say no.” Elsa said quietly.

GoGo said nothing. After what seemed like forever, she spoke.

“Get all your officers in the meeting room. We're drafting a plan to get you folks back to the Fred Cave.”

Outside, Anna cheered before quickly slapping her hand over her mouth, and disappearing out of sight.

Elsa smiled, looking relieved like a zombie had just been shot off her back before it could bite her. “Thank you very much, GoGo. I _swear_ we will do our best to help the Fred Cave out.”

GoGo scowled. “Don't thank me yet. I'm not calling Fred back until I know I won't get _completely_ screwed over in case things go wrong.”


	14. A World Half-Full

“Woah, what's with all the new people?” Hiro said as he stepped out of the Quarantine room, still a little pale and limp, but well.

“It's a long story.” GoGo said as she put her pistol away.

“We'll tell you later when we're less busy!” Honey Lemon said with a smile as she helped Hiro walk. “For now, let's go get some food, I'm starving!”

“Ditto that!” Hiro cried. “Anyone else hungry for brains, or is it just me?”

GoGo scowled and raised her gun to Hiro again. Honey Lemon shrieked then glared at him.

Hiro slowly held his hands up. “Bad joke. Sorry.”

GoGo grumbled darkly under her breath as she lowered the pistol. Honey Lemon just smiled and carefully hugged him with one arm.

“It's good to have you back, Hiro.”

All around them, the Fred Cave was swarming with people.

In the Infirmary, Elsa taught a class about first-aid and more advanced medical techniques with a few survivors as practice dummies.

In the Hallway to Hell—now officially called that, since Anna liked it too much—people carefully maneuvered through the traps and the constructions, either studying them like Anna and Kristoff, or moving building materials out of the base and to the elevator like Ralph and Felix.

Up on the roof, you could hear the sounds of training, target shooting, and Sergeant Calhoun's yelling as she tried to whip up office workers, 20-30 something's, and the one college student into a crack fighting team.

There was little rush, however, with the new and improved Gauntlet and the outposts outside, containing their own bevy of traps and guards ready and waiting to take on any threat before they reached the Fred Cave proper.

In the kitchen, Wasabi and his assistants scurried about, stirring pots, chopping ingredients, plating food in boxes and other reusable containers before it'd get shipped off outside, to the outposts or the construction of the new base up the street: Fort Tadashi.

Though there were a lot more tables and chairs set out, the originals were kept in their place, both as a perk for their old members of the Fred Cave, and as a designated meeting area.

Honey Lemon, Hiro, and GoGo all took their usual places. Fred came walking in from the radio room shortly after, leaving his students to fiddle and learn the equipment all by himself. Wasabi and a small squad of his assistants broke off, carrying food alongside plates, utensils, and mugs and glasses, almost none of them matching.

The five of talked as they always as they sat down for meals, but with the din around them, just a little bit louder than usual.

Life in the zombie apocalypse still sucked, to say the least. But, GoGo had to admit, it was getting better every day.


End file.
